


Lines

by heartsways



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, i don't really know what else this is about..., lady scientists with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsways/pseuds/heartsways
Summary: Well, my wife demanded that I write her some Kate/Osgood.  So I did, and came up with this in which Kate and Osgood figure things out.  Sort of.  Mostly.





	1. Crossing the Line (enough is enough)

Osgood pushes at her glasses, waiting patiently as Kate looks over the report she’s painstakingly put together (double-spaced with diagrams so that it’s extra-helpful).  Patience is one of Osgood’s virtues.  She learned it the hard way, forcibly frustrated and unfulfilled until she was finally finally good enough to join UNIT.  Now she’s developed a different kind of patience; she’s nurtured and grown it over endless nights of research in her lab.  It’s where she lives - where she’s discovered her purpose and life itself.  She’s spent so many nights hunched over her desk that the light of day is little more than a distant memory that belongs to another girl.  
  


She doesn’t feel nostalgic for that girl or that still, empty life.  Because that girl hasn’t flown with The Doctor, or helped save the world, or pushed herself to the length and breadth of her scientific knowledge so fast and so hard that it makes her head spin.  Osgood isn’t a girl anymore.  Not since she came to work for UNIT.  Her life has changed in so many ways that she knows she can’t go back now.  
  


Now, she is more.  Better.  She doesn’t _want_ to go back.  
  


Osgood pushes at her glasses again, gaze fixed on Kate’s bent head.  She’s been told - warned, really - that there is no _back_ to return to.  The things they’ve seen and done can’t ever be unseen, undone.  The girl she was is too small to hold the universe in her head and heart, too rigid to ever bend the laws of physics, of time and space itself.  
  


Without UNIT - without Kate Stewart, Osgood corrects herself - she’d still be that girl.  Without Kate Stewart, Osgood wouldn’t really be anything at all.

 

She wonders if Kate even knows.  If she has any idea at all how much Osgood owes her.  How important she is.  
  


An involuntary shiver runs down Osgood’s spine and her boots scrape over the stone floor.  The sound echoes beneath the vaulted ceilings in Kate’s office and Osgood winces inwardly.  It’s late and, threats to humankind permitting, only a skeleton staff remains at night.  Even through the thick walls hewn into the bedrock of London itself, Osgood knows there are only vacant corridors outside leading to rooms that are dark, closed off.  
  


She shudders again, and this time she can’t contain the harsh little gasp that escapes over her lips.  Kate’s head shoots up at the noise and she surveys Osgood from behind tortoiseshell-rimmed reading glasses.  
  


“You okay?” she asks.  
  


Osgood ducks her head, fingers toying with the edge of her scarf.  "Yes.  Fine.  Sorry,“ she adds, even though she hasn’t done anything wrong.  
  


It’s her default position, after all.  And even if she’s more confident now than she’s ever been, there are times when Kate’s scrutiny is almost too much to bear.  Because what if she were to see what Osgood struggles to hide?  What if she were to know her worth, layered dark and rich in Osgood’s eyes?  
  


Kate grunts and leans back in her chair, pulling her glasses from her face.  She lets them dangle in her fingers, turning her tight neck from side to side and wondering, vaguely, what time it is.  Not that it really matters.  However late - early, she thinks grimly, remembering far too many drives home at 3am - it gets, Osgood always seems to be here.  It’s what she does best, Kate thinks fondly; Osgood’s always there when she’s needed.  
  


She drops her glasses onto the report lying half-perused on her desk, then rises from her chair, letting out a breath as her back stiffens.  Kate isn’t as young as she used to be; she isn’t as naive, either.  Trading youth and innocence for UNIT always seemed like fair recompense until she was forced into giving up her marriage as well and, in the end, her children.  UNIT is all she has now.  It’s everything.  
  


Kate makes her way around the desk, shoving her hands into her pockets and coming to a halt in front of Osgood.  Always there when she’s needed.  It makes curiosity surge inside of Kate, bubbling to the surface as she cocks her head onto one side.  
  


"Do you drink, Osgood?”  
  


“Drink, ma'am?”  Osgood blinks behind her glasses.  "As in, hydrate?  Because I - “  
  
  
"Alcohol,” Kate cuts in, repressing the urge to roll her eyes.  "Do you drink alcohol?  All this time we’ve worked together and I don’t even know if you like a drink.“  
  


She leans back, perching on the edge of the desk.  Her shoulders seem heavy tonight, Osgood thinks, the faint smile on Kate’s lips something she’s mustered up out of a distant sadness.  It shouldn’t matter, that Osgood is sensitive to the changing expressions on Kate’s face, or that she can read and interpret them even if to do so is unwise.  Kate Stewart is rarely ruffled, but tonight Osgood can tell she’s preoccupied with something.  
  


Patience, she commands herself.  If Kate wants her to know, she’ll tell her.  Osgood’s come to rely on the adroit manner in which Kate communicates; she welcomes it.  There’s little room for doubt where Kate Stewart is concerned and her consistency soothes Osgood in a way she never anticipated.  But the way she feels about _that_ confuses her if she thinks too much about it.  
  


She tries very hard not to.  It never leads anywhere remotely soothing.  It takes her to places she knows she shouldn’t go, not even if only in her head.  
  


"So,” Kate says, jerking Osgood out of her thoughts, “drink?  My dad always used to swear by a good Scotch at the end of a long day.”  
  


Osgood nods and smiles obligingly.  But she hops from foot to foot, anxious at the prospect of a conversation that really isn’t her forte.  She can talk endlessly about the effects of a magnetised weapon that can literally erode people where they stand, but when it comes to herself, Osgood is struck dumb by the overwhelming panic of who she is.  She’s never really had to explain to Kate.  She never thought she needed to.  
  


“It’s the taste, so grainy and sharp,” she burbles.  "I didn’t like it - or it didn’t like me.  Either way, it just seemed to be…not my, um, thing…“ she trails off lamely.  
  


She can’t explain how she always found science more intoxicating than alcohol, how she had the social skills of an amoeba and a crippling sense of inadequacy to go with it.  Her sister was always better at it, more popular and prettier than Osgood.  More confident in ways that eluded a girl whose head was always bursting with ideas far beyond her capability to understand them.  
  


Osgood understands a lot more now - both about herself and the people she’s left behind.  Had to.  Not that knowing makes her feel any better.  
  


"Besides, it stopped being a long day about four hours ago,” Osgood pipes up, with a self-conscious laugh that has Kate narrowing her gaze.  "You’d probably be more into dangerously-early day drinking in about forty minutes if you broke out the scotch now.“  
  


Kate shrugs, her lips twisting wryly.  "Wouldn’t be the first time,” she mutters.  She catches Osgood’s gaze and smiles.  "Misspent youth,“ she qualifies.  "Don’t worry, there are no bottles hidden in here.”  
  


“I wouldn’t blame you if there were,” Osgood blurts, then freezes as Kate’s eyes bore into her.  "I just - it’s just that - the work we do here isn’t like anything else on the planet,“ she continues, "and it stands to reason that there has to come a tipping point - when you have to find some sort of release or you’ll simply go insane with all the things you’ve seen whirling around in your -”  
  


She hears herself and stops abruptly, a flutter of anxiety prickling over her skin.  "Not that I’m suggesting you would use alcohol as a coping mechanism because that’s just…I’d never…um…you don’t seem like the type, ma'am.“  
  


Osgood’s hands clutch at one another, fingertips pressing together, white-hard.  She can feel her chest begin to tighten and wills it to relax; pleads with her body not to betray her awkwardness.  It’s hard to tell where the line is and Osgood is constantly tripping over it in an attempt to please, to be enough, to be better.  She’s always craved approval from authority figures; Kate Stewart is no different.  
  


The more she reminds herself of that, the more Osgood can start pretending it’s true.  
  


Kate folds her arms over her chest and Osgood can’t tell if she’s offended or amused.  Either reaction, she’s sure, would be suitably damning.  She swallows hard, a fearful flush of shame creeping up her neck and Osgood is suddenly glad of the thick scarf wrapped around it.  
  


"Well,” Kate says slowly, “thank you for your concern, Osgood.  It’s much appreciated but I don’t think we need to worry about me drinking on the job quite just yet.  Although if there’s another Cybermen invasion you may have to physically prevent me reaching for a bottle.”  
  


Osgood almost cries out loud in relief as she sees the smile twitching at the corner of Kate’s mouth.  She’s being teased.  The warm flood on her neck becomes a tide that sweeps through her and Osgood is powerless to hold it back.  She beams in gratitude as Kate shakes her head in amusement, looking down at her overly-expensive and horribly indulgent shoes.  
  


“That’s not why I asked,” she says, then glances up at Osgood.  "About a drink, I mean.  But as we’re well past any acceptable hour to be going to a pub, I don’t suppose it matters.  Never mind.“  Kate throws a tight smile at Osgood and tries not to speculate on what she suspects might be disappointment on her features.  She unfolds her arms, fingers curling around the edge of the desk on either side of her hips.  
  


"And what do you do?” she asks.  "When you reach your tipping point - how do you cope?“  
  


She almost laughs at the bemused expression in Osgood’s eyes, like she doesn’t understand the question or how it relates to her.  Kate knows her protegee has given up a lot of ordinary experiences in order to have this one, this life they lead of secrecy and lies.  She often wonders, guiltily, if she’s responsible for taking those experiences away from Osgood; if she’s ripped her from a perfectly safe, mundane life she might have otherwise had.  
  


And then she sees Osgood every day, hears her ideas and solutions and Kate knows she did the right thing.  Selfishly, she’s greedy about the ways in which Osgood’s potential has become something truly spectacular.  Kate hugs the successes to herself, indulges in pride and care and concern because Osgood is worth it.    
  


Osgood frowns and pushes at her glasses with her forefinger.  "Um, I don’t…”  
  


“Don’t have a tipping point or you don’t cope?” Kate muses.  She doesn’t mean to be accusatory but Osgood stiffens immediately.  
  


“Ma'am, if you think I don’t love my work here, or if you think I’m not able to do it - ”  
  


“Osgood, please,” Kate holds up her hand to halt what she’s certain would be a glowing (and impossibly florid) description of what makes UNIT so special.  "That’s not what I meant at all.  What about your chess club, hm?“  
  


"I stopped going.”  
  


“Did you?  When?”  Kate’s genuinely concerned and straightens a little on her perch.  "You used to enjoy that.  What happened?“  
  


"You mean aside from Autons, Daleks, the Nestene Consciousness that wanted to turn you into living plastic or the earth in general peril at any given moment?” Osgood dryly counts them off on her fingers.  Kate’s mouth forms into a firm line but Osgood is irritated and doesn’t know why.  It hardens her jaw, makes her chin lift in challenge.  Kate’s schedule is as familiar as her own and Osgood knows _she_ hasn’t left her office any night recently until well after midnight.  Osgood knows that because she’s always there too, listening out for the sound of Kate’s shoes click past her lab.  Every night, she wishes they’d pause.  Every night, she holds her breath until they begin to fade.  Every night, she berates herself for being so foolish.  
  


Perhaps she’s more irritated at herself than at Kate’s interrogation, irked by the fact that Kate knows her and doesn’t back down from it.  Osgood reaches for the hem of her scarf and begins to twist it between her fingers.  Oh, that she should be so brave, she thinks grimly.  
  


“You used to go to Bridge every Thursday but you haven’t been for weeks,” she comments boldly.  "Things happen that are - that are more important than chess club and trying to be normal for the sake of people who can’t even begin to understand what we do, every day, to keep them safe.“  
  


Kate’s eyes soften with such undisguised affection that it makes Osgood’s heartbeat roar in her ears.  "You’re giving up your own life so other people can live theirs,” she says.    
  


Osgood frowns over the empirical evidence that she’s gathered and compartmentalised and filed neatly away for future reference.  She takes a step towards Kate, shaking her head and speaking before she knows how to stop.  
  


“Kate,” she breathes, and it’s a luxury to say her name, “UNIT _is_ my life.  It’s so much more than I ever expected.  So much bigger than anything else.”  The passion in her tone is enough to make her tremble, brimming with a fervency that she knows isn’t solely about the work.  
  


“So much lonelier than anything else,” Kate murmurs.  She looks at Osgood, her mouth working silently over words she thinks better of.  Standing up, Kate shoves her hands into her pockets again and lets out an audible huff of air.  
  


“Anyway, it’s late, or early.  You should go home, get some sleep.”  Kate’s tone is brisk, proffered with a tight smile.  
  


“I will if you will,” Osgood says.  She smiles at Kate in that bright, satisfied way she has when she’s figured out a problem.  
  


Kate wonders if she’s the problem, waiting to be solved.  Her natural instincts rise up towards defence and her hands clench into fists inside her pockets.  But it’s _Osgood_.  Loyal and kind and more, now, _much_ more than a friend.  Always here when she’s needed.  Always so brilliantly providing the answers.  Kate always expects danger but it’s safety that’s staring her in the face right now.  
  


It’s why Kate acquiesces and lets out a deep sigh.  "Alright.  Let’s call it a night.  But I’m going to finish your report first thing.  There’s an entire universe out there that’s never going to slacken its pace so neither should we.“  
  


"No.  I mean, yes, obviously,” Osgood blinks rapidly, head bobbing up and down.  "Of course.“  
  


Back to business.   _Of course_.  There should be comfort in consistency but Osgood can’t really bring herself to feel it.  
  


"However, the next time I ask you out for a drink I’ll try to do it during more socially appropriate hours.  And I hope you’ll say yes.”  Kate doesn’t want to see the look on Osgood’s face and she turns away under the pretext of gathering up her coat and bag.  When she turns around, Osgood’s eyes are wide and bright behind her glasses and the sight of them puts a smile across Kate’s lips.  
  


“Why?” Osgood asks in a hushed, awed tone.  
  


“You shouldn’t have to pretend to be normal to be with other people,” Kate tells her.  "Because who you are is extraordinary.  But it shouldn’t make you lonely.“  
  


They look at one another and the air changes, imperceptibly and delicately.  Then Kate nods and makes for the door, her heels marking time as she walks away.  
  


"I think you’re extraordinary,” Osgood says.  Kate stops.  "Are _you_ lonely?“  
  


Osgood can’t turn around.  If she does, she’ll see herself far across that line between not enough and too much with no emotional bolthole to run to.  She’s already starting to feel regret creep over her like a sickening sadness and she holds her breath, listening intently.  
  


Kate laughs, just once.  Osgood hears the door rattle and squeak open.  Then, Kate’s voice.  
  


"Yes, I was.  But now…I’m hopeful.”  
  


“About?”  
  


Kate laughs, low and throaty.  "See you tomorrow, Osgood.“  
  


It’s not the answer Osgood expects, but she’s oddly satisfied with it.  With herself.  And it feels like enough, for now.

 

 


	2. Borderline (keep pushing me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Osgood's really clever but sometimes...sometimes she's not.

Kate’s on the phone when Osgood slides around the door to her office and stands uncertainly inside.  She could hear Kate’s voice from outside - that stentorian, brook-no-dissent tone with all those clipped words that make people tremble in fear.    
  


Osgood used to tremble in fear, too, back when she was Kate’s assistant with delusions of grandeur.  Now those delusions have turned into reality, Osgood rather appreciates Kate’s no-nonsense approach to…well, _everything_.  She’d rather that than be mollycoddled into complacency about the dangers around them everywhere they look..  And everywhere they don’t look.

 

Kate looks up from her desk and nods at Osgood, beckoning her forwards with one hand.  As Osgood trots obediently towards her, Kate sighs and bids the person on the other end of the line a terse farewell.  She slams the receiver down (they’d procured rotary telephones for the entire office system and Osgood always loves how old-fashioned they look and feel) and glares at the phone as it pings in faint resistance.  
  


“Of all the pompous, priggish…” Kate mutters, clamping her lips together to prevent what she feels might just be a damning sort of tirade.  
  


“I didn’t want to interrupt,” Osgood ventures timidly, “but you asked to see the plans for our newest prototype.”  She takes a sheaf of papers from beneath her arm and waves them back and forth like some kind of white flag.  Sometimes it helps to identify herself as “not the enemy” when Kate’s like this, face set in grim lines and on the warpath.  
  


“You’re not interrupting,” Kate says blankly, gazing balefully down at her desk.  "I think I can confidently say that any kind of conversation was most definitely over by the time you came in.“  
  


"I see.”  Osgood really doesn’t.  The only thing she sees right now is Kate, face dark with consternation and eyes gimlet-hard.    
  


Osgood shuffles her feet and stares down at them.  The only thing she ever really sees is Kate.  When she’s in the room, Osgood rarely has eyes for anything or anyone else.  And it’s so juvenile and weak (the girls who bullied her at school would have had a field day with this) that Osgood hates it - hates herself for being this way.  But it’s _Kate_.  Kate, who’s nurtured and moulded UNIT and the people who work for it into something so important.  Osgood feels a debt of gratitude that can’t ever really be repaid, because what sort of recompense would be even remotely fitting?  
  


Of course, that’s not all it is (Osgood hears the distant cackle of those girls at school again, teasing her with half-truths and worryingly accurate names).  And, if she’s being truly honest, then she’d do almost anything to remove that expression from Kate’s face, which, given the fact that she’s one of the best scientists in the world (maybe even in the universe, she thinks with a glimmer of pride), tends to encompass quite the skills set.  
  


The only thing that worries her today (as opposed to the catalogue of worries Osgood carries around with her on any other day) is that science possibly isn’t what Kate needs.  And it’s also entirely possible that it’s not what she wants, either.  That sort of territory is nebulous and uncertain and doesn’t follow any logical rules and Osgood shies away from it it not because it scares her but because, truth be told, she’s worried that she won’t be any good at it.  She has a habit of thinking the right thing to say but, generally, when it comes out of her mouth it’s scrambled and useless and…  
  


Probably for the best not to say anything.  Then nobody has to feel foolish.  Nobody has to know that how they feel and how they express it are woefully disconnected.  
  
  
“Anyway,” Kate draws in a sharp breath and smacks her hands, palm down, onto the desk, “enough of that.  You have plans, did you say?”  
  


She’s out of her chair and marching around the desk before Osgood has time to pass them over.  Instead, she spreads the papers out in front of them both as Kate comes to stand by her side.  Osgood can smell Kate’s perfume.  It’s subtle, barely-there but Osgood recognises it instantly.  She’s such a ninny; the other day she stopped dead in her tracks at the perfume counter in John Lewis, thrilled to finally put a name to the scent that lingers in her head.  
  


Kate hums aloud, staring down at the meticulous blueprints that Osgood has checked and re-checked and then triple-checked, just to be sure.  A slender finger trails down the paper, tracing a line to its end.  Osgood blushes furiously and tries not to stare.  
  


She fails.  Quite miserably so.  
  


“And this is the internal bypass pipe?” Kate taps at the map of lines and shapes in front of her, reading it as easily and quickly as she’d read a newspaper.  One of the things Osgood likes so much is not having to explain herself in that slow, plodding way most people require.  Kate’s brain moves almost as fast as her own.  It’s secretly thrilling.  
  


“It’s not just any pipe,” Osgood announces proudly.  "It’s a conductor.  It helps to amplify the pulse over a wider target area whilst diffusing the beam so the entire thing doesn’t overheat.  It’s actually multi-tasking, all on its own.“  
  


Kate can’t help smiling.  "Rather like yourself, then.”  
  


“I didn’t - ” Osgood begins immediately, “ - it wasn’t just me.  It’s a team effort.  It always is.”  
  


“The team,” Kate says flatly, “are under no illusions when it comes to you, however.  They follow your lead.”  
  


She glances up at Osgood, her eyes sincere and dark and a hundred other things that Osgood tries so hard to engender.  Now that she has, of course, she shrinks away from it a little.  Kate’s standing too close, their arms almost touching and that perfume winding around her until Osgood’s forced to dip a hand into her pocket and touch her inhaler.  Just in case.    
  


But Kate’s already staring down at the blueprint again, her fingers skimming the surface of the paper with a delicate touch.  Osgood experiences a flurry of thoughts that are unhelpful and distracting, enough to make her a little dizzy.  She moves away as Kate hums again, then nods.  
  


“This is impressive,” she murmurs.  Straightening, she faces Osgood and her smile is genuine enough to be mirrored behind dark-framed glasses.  "I mean, it’s really good.  You know that, don’t you?“  
  


Osgood nods because there’s really no place for false modesty here and Kate would never let her get away with it even if there were.  Besides, she’s excellent at science.  Always has been.  Humaning, on the other hand, has proven a tad more difficult.  Especially when she’s desperate to human with -   
  


_No_.  No more of those ideas, Osgood tells herself.  She sticks to nodding.  It’s much safer.  
  


She settles for, "It went well.”  Which is funny, really, because Osgood’s never been a fast friend with understatement.  
  


Kate grunts and looks down at the blueprint again.  Her gaze narrows slightly and Osgood jumps in with what she hopes is reassurance.  
  


“I know the plans look a bit…” she searches for the right word and sighs, defeated, “…jumbly.  But once it’s built I think it’s going to look a lot better.  Sometimes it’s hard to tell, when it’s just a plan, what the finished product is going to be like but I can guarantee you it’ll be more impressive and less…”  
  


“Jumbly?” Kate suggests.  Her sideways glance at Osgood is kind, but the teasing note of her voice makes a warm flush rise up Osgood’s cheeks.    
  


“I’ll choose a better word next time.  Something more science-y,” Osgood tells her.  
  


Kate laughs.  "I’m sure you will.  However, speaking of plans, I was hoping you didn’t have any for Friday.  Tomorrow, that is.  I mean, obviously.“  
  


Kate thinks she probably should have practised this.  It’s all so terribly difficult.  Apparently, she tells herself, divorce and the inevitable end of a relationship really isn’t the worst thing about all of this.  Starting something new is much, _much_ harder.  
  


She straightens, shoving her hands into her pockets, and sees Osgood frowning slightly at her.  It’s not the most encouraging of expressions, but Kate’s never been one for backing down from adversity.    Her eyebrows rise in question and Osgood swallows visibly.  
  


"Plans, ma'am?  I’ll - I’ll be here, as usual,” she says with ironic certainty, even though Osgood has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not ironic at all, and might even be a little sad if she thinks too hard about it (just like the girls at school always said it was).  
  


“I meant Friday night,” Kate says firmly.    
  


“I’ll probably still be here,” Osgood admits, “as usual.”  
  


“No,” Kate stops and clenches her back teeth together.  "Osgood, I’m asking you to have dinner with me.  On Friday night.  If you’re available and willing.“    
  


"Oh.”  Osgood blinks in sudden understanding.  " _Oh_!“  
  


She blushes and stabs at her glasses with a forefinger, shoving them further up her nose.  "This is the fourth time in three weeks,” she observes, then demurs slightly, hardly daring to think what it might mean.  "I mean, thank you, ma'am.  Kate.  I mean, thank you, Kate.“  
  


Osgood daren’t call it dating - mostly because the word isn’t really part of her daily vocabulary and even if they _were_ dating she isn’t sure she’d call it _that_.  Because even if Kate looks so intently at her over a glass of wine that Osgood frequently forgets her train of thought, and even if Kate seems interested in her company outside of work, that doesn’t mean it’s a date.  Or anything.  Does it?  
  


"There’s a French restaurant in Camden that I think you’d like,” Kate offers casually.  Inside her pockets, her hands tighten into fists, short fingernails pressing into the soft pads of her palm.  "You mentioned that your parents took you to Brittany once and you liked the food.“  
  


Osgood remembers babbling something along those lines the night she met Kate in a bar that was too loud and too busy and too full of other people for her to truly relax.  She’s never been very good at blending in and UNIT has lulled her into a false sense of identity; at UNIT, standing out has become second nature.  And while she understands how well that works for her in the lab, Osgood can’t fathom why Kate would want anything else.  
  


Because there really isn’t anything else worth having.    
  


Kate draws in a breath and nods, chin falling to her chest.  "You can say no, of course.  I wouldn’t want to compromise you in any - ”  
  


“No,” Osgood breathes.   
  


Kate looks up at her, blinking in disappointment.  "Right.  Okay.“  
  


"No - ” There’s a look of sheer panic on Osgood’s face and her hands come up in front of her, palm out, as though to fend off an attack.  "I mean, yes.  Yes.  No - I don’t want to say no.  I was saying no to _that_ and not to a - yes, please.  To dinner.“  
  


Her head bobs up and down with such vigor that Kate can’t help letting out a breathy laugh, borne more from relief than anything else.  She’s always so certain about things but this…this fills her with doubt and anxiety.  Kate Lethbridge-Stewart: nervous about asking a girl out.  If this got out she’d be the laughing stock of UNIT, perhaps even the universe at large.  
  


She’s gone through all of this in her head before, though, multiple times.  And it always comes down to the same thing, in the end.  Kate likes Osgood.  More than a colleague, a mentee; more than the breathtakingly talented woman she is.  It’s more than that.  It’s about the passion in Osgood’s voice when she talks, her observations coming out in freeform and crammed with curiosity.  It’s about the compassion in her eyes when Kate opened up about her marriage, her children, herself.  It’s really about who Osgood is, at heart.  The way she feels so much and so intensely, all the time.  
  


Kate likes her.   _More than_.  And she’s tried very hard not to - actively sought to avoid complicated, dangerous feelings while running headfirst towards complicated, dangerous situations.  
  


She realises that Osgood is staring at her, eyes wide and a little teary behind her glasses.  Kate feels her stomach lurch and knows that avoiding anything is a line she crossed long ago.  It’s so far behind her that to go back would probably make things worse.  
  


So, she tells herself with a little nod, forwards it is.  For better or worse.  
  


"I’m not making things difficult for you, am I?” she wonders aloud.  
  


Osgood shakes her head firmly, a determined set to her jaw.  "It’s not difficult spending time with you.  It’s the opposite of difficult, actually.  Anti-difficult…which in itself is a paradox, really, if you imagine the processes and tests you’d have to carry out to prove - “  
  


"Osgood,” Kate says in a low, gentle voice; Osgood clamps her lips tight shut, appalled at herself.  "You’re nervous.“  
  


"Yes,” Osgood forces out shamefully.  Because Kate’s lonely - she’s said as much - and so is Osgood.  But knowing that’s all it is doesn’t quell the desire to memorise the slope of Kate’s neck, or to inhale the perfume from her skin and taste its warmth against her mouth.  If dinner and conversation is what’s on offer, then Osgood will take it.  Just to spend time with Kate.  Just to be near her.  
  


It’s so pathetic that Osgood’s mouth twists in resentment.  She shakes her head as Kate watches her with solemn, dark eyes.  
  


“I’m nervous too,” Kate finally admits, and smiles when Osgood frowns at her.    
  


“It’s just dinner,” Osgood says.  She might as well start convincing herself of that now so she’ll be prepared for tomorrow evening.  
  


Kate turns away, folding the blueprints with deliberate care.  "Is it?“  
  


Osgood’s fingers reach inside her pocket again, her chest burning with icy hot fear.  Perhaps this has been a ruse all along, a way to torment and expose her feelings.  Perhaps this is Kate’s way of dismissing her for being too close and failing to keep everything inside.  
  


"I don’t - ” she swallows dryly, “ - I’m not sure I understand…”  
  


Kate is suddenly standing in front of her, so close that they’re breathing the same air in sharp little gasps.  Strong fingers curl around Osgood’s, a thumb bumping over her knuckles.  
  


“Dear, sweet Osgood,” Kate murmurs, “I think you do.”  
  


There’s a clarity in Kate’s steady gaze that resonates in Osgood’s chest, clear and true.  She breathes over it as Kate bends her head, tugging gently on her hand to bring her near.  This isn’t how Osgood imagined it - not that she’s ever imagined it, of course - and it takes her by surprise, how easy it feels.  Her lips curve in a smile, Kate’s fingers pressing against her own, and Osgood sighs; she can’t help it.  She’s tempted to throw the laws of physics aside because this is a suspended moment in time that Osgood wants to exist in forever.  
  


Her eyes flutter shut, head tilting back.  Kate makes a tiny noise in her throat and it thrills down Osgood’s spine, a surge of want speeding in its wake.  
  


The shrill, insistent ring of the telephone makes them leap apart.  Kate reaches over her desk, snatching up the receiver and barking into it like nothing has happened.  She listens for a second, then puts her hand over the mouthpiece.  
  


“I have to take this,” she tells Osgood in a half-whisper.  She doesn’t need to explain - she never does when it comes to work.  Osgood always understands the imperative in their lives, the response that’s necessary.  But not wanted, judging from the apology shining in Kate’s gaze.  
  


Osgood nods and slides the blueprints from the desk, clutching them against her chest like a shield, like armour.  Kate’s defences are well and truly up and she’s already glowering across the room as she listens with forced patience to the voice in her ear.  She sighs, exasperated, and sees Osgood hovering.  Her hand slides over the mouthpiece again.  
  


“Tomorrow,” she whispers.  "Dinner and…us, yes?“  
  


"Yes,” Osgood whispers.  This time, she’s not nervous at all.

 

 


	3. Bottom Line (a fool for you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings in the lab. Poor Osgood.

Osgood jumps at her desk as the lab door bangs shut.  She blinks, staring at it, and realises she’s all alone.  There’s a vague memory of someone - probably Ian, her over-enthusiastic technician - saying goodnight but Osgood tends to tune everyone else out when she’s preoccupied.  Lately, she’s been preoccupied a lot.  It’s really quite annoying.  Osgood’s capable of holding a lot of thoughts in her head all at once - it’s how she makes a possibility a probability.  
  


She’s been thinking about probability every day; it hums beneath everything like a resonant note in her head, wavering up to elation and down to despair, thrumming all the notes in between.  It’s music in her head, a repeating phrase that rises to a crescendo so she can’t concentrate, can’t think, can’t stay on any thought other than the one that overwhelms everything else.  
  


And now she’s alone.  She’s not surprised.  Osgood keeps late nights so frequently that nobody would think twice about just leaving her here.  Sometimes she likes the place when it’s deserted; there aren’t any distractions.    
  


The past few weeks have provided nothing but.  The soft, lingering sounds that began like rain have crowded her head and become a torrent.  Osgood knows she should try to break the surface for air, at least kick against the current but she’s let herself be swept away by it.  She’s drifting all the time now, her thoughts swirling into dark water.  
  


There have been three dinners so far, each one longer than the last.  Kate takes her hand, sometimes, when they’re walking to their table.  Osgood has found that their fingers link together perfectly, like they’ve been doing this for years.  She’s never really been a handholder; it always seemed so juvenile and a bit embarrassing.  But Kate’s hand in her own feels right: the answer to a question Osgood never thought to ask.  
  


Three dinners, each one ending the same way.  Kate, looking like she has so much more to say before she kisses Osgood on the cheek and murmurs goodbye.  And Osgood, heart racing, wishing she’d done or said something different.  Wishing it had been enough and feeling guilty that it’s not.  
  


She still feels guilty now.  It’s not Kate’s fault.  Osgood knows she talks too much when she’s nervous and things come out that really shouldn’t.  They replay in her mind and offer discordance to the repeating stream that’s on a loop.  It keeps coming back around to Kate, to the gentle requests she makes and the way she smiles when Osgood accepts.  
  


Sighing, Osgood slumps in her chair and spins it around.  Her head lolls back and she closes her eyes under the thin rails of light overhead.  Whenever Kate touches her, it feels like an indelible mark is imprinted on her skin; Osgood can help to save the world but she can’t even begin to save her own heart.  There’s a part of it that already belongs to Kate.  
  


At the back of her mind she can hear foosteps echoing down the corridor outside, growing closer.  Osgood begins to tap her finger lightly on the arm of the chair in time, each step the tick of a metronome to keep her in time.  She anticipates them passing her by - they always do - so when the sound stops and the lab door groans open, Osgood is momentarily confused.  
  


“Ah, I thought you might still be here,” Kate’s voice comes cheerily across the lab, as bright as the strip lights that Osgood squints up into.  She’s up out of her chair like a shot, mustering up a dazed smile as the chair rolls away behind her and bumps softly against a desk.  
  


Kate approaches on hurried little steps, trench coat slung over one arm and handbag bumping against her hip.  She discards both onto a nearby trolley and looks around the lab.  
  


“And you’re alone,” she adds, her gaze swinging back to rest on Osgood.  
  


“Preparing for another night of torture in the dungeon,” Osgood jokes, her face falling when she sees Kate’s eyebrows rise.  "Not that it’s - “ she gulps, ” - torture.  Or a dungeon.  Although it could have been, what with the whole Tower of London thing right above our heads.“  
  


She points upwards and bounces on her feet, laughing weakly.  Kate’s eyes narrow and she presses her lips together in attempt not to chuckle.  
  


"If you find any victims or shackles on the wall, I’ll expect a full report,” she tells Osgood with a twinkle in her eyes.  
  


“You’ll be the first to know,” Osgood nods solemnly.  "I’m sure you’ll probably be able to hear my screams all the way down the corridor in your office, anyway.“  
  


Now Kate does laugh, and it’s low and melodious.  The sound tingles down Osgood’s spine and she’s suddenly, inexplicably pleased with herself.  She beams at Kate unreservedly and Kate steps closer.  
  


"You are allowed to go home, you know,” she says.  It sounds like a seduction and when Kate reaches out to hold Osgood’s hand, it makes her dizzy.  She swallows hard.  
  


“I usually, um,” she croaks out, then clears her throat and dares to look Kate in the eye.  "I usually go when you go.“  
  


"I keep late hours,” Kate murmurs.  
  


“I know.”  
  


Kate’s thumb begins to move over the back of Osgood’s hand in steady, slow circles.  "You don’t have to do that.“  
  


"I know.”  Osgood dares to inch closer to Kate.  They’re almost touching, a familiar refrain waltzing through Osgood’s brain.  It puts fire into her blood and she feels an anxious, dangerous euphoria ignite in her gut.  "I do it for you.  If you - if you need me.  For anything.  I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone here.  So, when you go, I go.“  
  


"But I have to go first,” Kate says.  A tiny frown burrows between her eyes, like she’s trying to work something out, make connections, gather ammunition.  Her free hand rises and she tucks back a stray wisp of hair that’s escaped from Osgood’s ponytail.  Then she sighs and smiles tightly, her eyes dark and sincere.  
  


“Fine, I’ll go first,” she acquiesces with a tiny bend of her head.  When she presses her hand against Osgood’s cheek, she hears a sigh that quivers in her belly and sends a thrill of anticipation across her skin.  "I’ve been taking things slowly.“  
  


"For my benefit or yours?” Osgood asks before she can help herself.  Kate’s hand falls from her cheek and she misses the contact immediately.  Her fingers clutch tightly at Kate’s in case that goes away too.  
  


Kate’s eyebrows arch and she looks a little taken aback.  But she can’t honestly say that she wants Osgood to stop surprising her, even if it does make her falter and back away a little.  
  


“I didn’t want to make any assumptions,” Kate’s voice rises a little in defence.

 

Osgood’s nostrils flare and her lips - Kate can’t stop looking at them - harden into a flat line.  She lets go of Kate’s hand and folds her arms over her chest.  
  


“I’m not a child.  I’ve had… _experiences_ ,” Osgood tries to sound as accomplished as she can without having to delve into a truly shameful litany of stolen kisses and furtive, secret liaisons.  "I know what people think of me and - “  
  


"I’m hardly _people_ ,” Kate snorts disparagingly.  
  


“ - and it doesn’t matter because they don’t know me but I do.  I know me better than anyone else and the fact that you’re even saying any of this means you’ve already made assumptions about what I have or haven’t done.”  Osgood’s breathing hard now, vaguely appalled at her righteous sense of injury and _definitely_ appalled at the surprised, hurt expression on Kate’s face.    
  


In terms of possibility and probability, Osgood’s almost completely certain that there won’t be any more dinner invitations after her tirade.  
  


“Should have just asked,” Kate mutters, disgruntled.  
  


“Why didn’t you?”  There’s heat and passion in Osgood’s eyes that Kate’s only ever seen for their work.  And now, it’s for _her_ , too.  It licks a flame down her body and she takes a breath, shoulders dropping a little as she lets it out.  
  


“When I was young my dad used to tell me that the time we spend worrying about our fears is wasted time that we could have spent trying to face them.”  Her voice is steady, even though she can feel Osgood’s gaze roaming over her features, trying to decipher the truth.  "You, Osgood, are… _fearless_ ,“ she laughs out the word, her gaze rising heavenward in wonder.  
  


"I am not,” Kate finishes.  She looks at Osgood, helplessly caught in her own admission of frailty.  Her father also told her that she should never let the enemy see her weakness because that’s how they’d break you.    
  


But Osgood isn’t the enemy.  It’s Kate who’s standing in her own way.  
  


“We both know that the universe doesn’t wait and I don’t think I want to, either.  It doesn’t appear to be beneficial to either of us.”    
  


Kate moves closer to Osgood again; close enough see how her chest rises and falls, close enough to hear the shallow, sharp breaths that flood over Osgood’s parted lips.  
  


“Are you alright?” Kate asks gently.  "Do you need your inhaler?“  
  


Osgood shakes her head in a wordless lie.  She doesn’t want to spoil this by being herself (she always spoils things by being herself, always _always_ ) so she tries to ignore the creeping fog in her chest, making everything thick and hard and painful.  
  


Kate’s face screws up into doubtful reprove and, before Osgood can protest, she feels the tickle of Kate’s hair against her cheek and is pressed up against the edge of her desk.  Now she can barely breathe at all, the tiny sliver of space in her lungs becoming too small, too desperate.  Kate steps back, brandishing a blue inhaler in her fingers and waits until Osgood takes it, pressing the plunger one, two, three times.  
  


"See, I do know some things about you.”  Kate’s voice holds a gentle reprove that has Osgood flushing pink with guilt.   _Again_.  
  


“I’m sorry,” Osgood gulps over the renewed air in her lungs, the medication chasing a thrill around her veins.  "I’m doing this all wrong and I want - no, I _need_ to do it right.  I’m good at doing things right - well - in the end.  I get it right in the end.  The thing is, Kate, that science leads.  You told me that on my first day here and I believe in it, you know?“  
  


She pauses and Kate blinks at her, silently patient and utterly luminous.  Answers never come from waiting; Osgood knows that they come from having the courage to take risks.  The bravery to tell the truth.  If Kate thinks that she’s fearless, then perhaps she should be.  Right now.  
  


"It’s you,” she tells Kate (and it’s like a science-high, this feeling of exhilaration).  "You lead and I follow because…because it’s where I want to be.  With you. Doing amazing things together and being amazing and…and you’re amazing.“  
  


Kate is quiet, watchful.  Her eyes are glistening, though, and she swallows visibly.  Osgood used to think Kate didn’t really know how to feel fear, that she was somehow immune.  But Osgood’s seen fear in so many different ways that she can see it now, shining in Kate’s gaze.  And it suddenly makes sense, like computations clicking into place.  
  


It’s Osgood’s turn to go first.  
  


The rubber soles of her Converse shoes squeak on the lab floor as she moves forwards and into Kate’s space.  Osgood hears a tiny gasp - unsure whether it comes from Kate or her own mouth - and presses her lips against Kate’s.  Then she pulls away.  Bravery only lasts so long, after all.  
  


Kate reduces the space between them in an instant, sliding one arm around Osgood’s waist, her hand around the back of Osgood’s neck.  This time, when they kiss, Kate’s lips are soft and hard all at the same time, her tongue sliding over Osgood’s.    
  


I'm kissing Kate Stewart, Osgood thinks in a storm of different sensations, each one bringing her alive, cell by cell.  She’s kissing Kate Stewart.  And Kate Stewart is kissing her, fingers in her hair and a moan that hums over Osgood’s lips.  She sways, Kate pushing her back against the unyielding edge of the desk and Osgood is clutching at Kate’s jacket, at her shoulders with numb fingers.  
  


Kate breaks away, stumbling back a little and gazing at Osgood like she’s never seen her before.  Her jacket and shirt are rucked up and it takes her a second to compose herself, tugging them back into place as best she can with trembling hands.  When she finally speaks, her voice is graveled and hungry.  
  


"So, just to clarify,” she says, “we’re not taking things slowly anymore.”  
  


Osgood barks out a laugh, then claps her hand over her mouth, horrified.  It might be the most adorable thing Kate’s ever seen.  And she wants Osgood all over again, not just now but every day she can possibly have with her.  Kate reaches out and touches Osgood’s cheek with her fingertips then snatches them back, throat thick with emotion.  
  


“I don’t want to wait either,” Osgood tells her eagerly.  Her eyes are gleaming behind her glasses, the tops of her cheeks are pink.  
  


“Come home with me,” Kate says, and takes a tiny, audible breath when she hears what she’s said.  
  


Osgood always wondered what the next phrase of the melody would be: that distracting, repetitive noise in her head, going around and around without end.  Now she knows; it pounds in time with her heart and she rises over the top of it, letting it swell beneath her.  
  


“Yes,” she says, and beams at the relief on Kate’s face.  But, then, Osgood always did like getting it right.  Possibility be damned.  It was time for a new song.

 

 


	4. Walk the Line (try to turn the tide)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less talk, more action. Although neither Kate nor Osgood would actually SAY that. Oh well.

Osgood’s been to Kate’s well-appointed flat before but never as a guest.  It makes everything feel new, even if she recognises and recalls details from before.  There are pictures on the wall by the door: a few photographs of Kate’s children and one of her and the Brigadier.  A crammed bookshelf leads visitors down the hallway into a huge, open-plan living room and kitchen.  Osgood lingers in the archway.  Kate’s bought a new sofa since the last time she was here.  
  


She pretends not to notice as Kate, now coatless and barefoot, breezes past and straight into the kitchen.  Even though Osgood notices everything, she learned as a child that pointing it out and focusing on differences never seemed to make anyone feel better, even when they were good changes.  She just stopped doing it after a while.  
  


Never stopped feeling it, though, she thinks.  She turns, watching Kate reach up to grab a wine glass from a cupboard, then a bottle from the fridge.  Once she’s poured some and taken a too-large gulp, Kate smiles tightly at Osgood.  
  


“Can I get you anything?”  
  


Osgood shakes her head, unsure how to ask for what she really wants.  She unbuttons her coat and removes it, putting it carefully over the arm of the couch.  It feels pointless to smooth her hands down the front of her shirt, but Osgood does it anyway as Kate eyes her across the room, cocking her head onto one side.  She’s leaning on the kitchen counter and looks beautifully casual.  But Osgood can tell she’s nervous.  It weaves in and around Kate's gaze, makes her hand holding the wine glass tremble a little.  
  


UNIT seems like a million miles away.  Another universe altogether.  
  


“I like the bow tie, by the way,” Kate observes before tipping up her glass and draining it.  
  


“Bow ties are cool,” Osgood parrots obediently, but her lips are curving into a smile that has Kate sauntering across the room.  
  


She comes to a stop in front of Osgood.  Her eyes are golden and warm.  "I’m willing to bet you look just as cool without it,“ she murmurs.  One of her hands brushes against Osgood’s and the air crackles, suddenly, between them.  
  


This is no time to be shy - no reason, either.  Osgood breathes out as her heart leaps; Kate’s fingers gently squeeze her own.  Kate wants her here.  Kate wants _her_.  
  


"I can take it off,” Osgood suggests, trying her best to stop her voice from wavering.  "In the interests of science, if you like.“  
  


"Well, I’d hate to stand in the way of an experiment.”  
  


Osgood catches the halting tone of Kate’s voice and sees hesitancy flecked in shades of brown.  She reaches up, unfastens her bow tie and yanks it from beneath the collar of her shirt.  Determination fills her face and voice as she nods.  
  


“It’s not an experiment, Kate,” she states firmly.  "Nothing about this is.  We rely on empirical evidence and gather it where we can.  Don’t you think I’ve been doing that all this time?  Don’t you think I know how I feel about - about it?“  
  


Kate blinks slowly, calmly.  But she can’t ignore the thrill of satisfaction to hear Osgood’s words, a confirmation of what Kate suspects she feels herself. 

 "So…based on your evidence, have you theorised it or are you still in the research stage?”  
  


They smile at one another, couched in language that comes easier to their lips than what their hearts and bodies want to say.    
  


“Both,” Osgood says, and she can’t hold herself back any longer.  Kate’s lips taste like wine, tart and rich and Osgood kisses her greedily.  She slides her hands beneath Kate’s jacket, feeling the lean, strong body beneath her shirt.  Kate hums against her mouth, presses against her and they’re clutching one another close, bodies bumping together.   
  


Kate draws away, her lips swollen and pink.  Osgood’s mouth is open and her glasses are askew.  She looks wonderfully tousled and it’s all Kate can do not to lean in and kiss her again.  But she steps back instead, tugging on Osgood’s hand.  
  


“Come with me.”  Her voice is thick and low; it echoes in Osgood’s head as she lets Kate lead her through the archway and down the corridor.  By the time Kate pulls her into the bedroom, the sound has been reduced to sensation, throbbing its way down Osgood’s body.  She stumbles when Kate lets go of her hand and moves across the room, snapping on a light that bathes them in a yellow glow.  
  


It seems to cling to Kate’s hair as she shrugs off her jacket and casts it aside.  Then she’s darting across the room again, hands reaching for Osgood.  They kiss more urgently than before and Kate backs Osgood towards the bed with a firm, decisive touch.  Kate’s mouth drags along Osgood’s jaw before it settles in the curve of her throat.  
  


“No experiments,” she says, her voice muffled against Osgood’s neck.  She pulls back, looks Osgood in the eye so intensely that whatever they’re both aching to say is coming through loud and clear.  "That’s not what I want.“  
  


Her fingers move to the top button of Osgood’s shirt, deftly undoing it and moving on to the next.    
  


Osgood swallows.  "What do you want?” she whispers, almost afraid to ask.

 

Kate feels the words bubble up inside her: a creed she tries to live by.  Love by.  Her fingers are hasty as they slide Osgood’s shirt and cardigan from her shoulders, dancing over pale skin and the delicate shape of bone, flesh, warmth.  She could say so much, confess her feelings and transgressions; she could try to tell Osgood her worth, her value, her importance in Kate’s life.  
  


Osgood gasps when the air in the bedroom hits her skin; she gasps again when Kate’s hands do the same.  They slide up her neck and cup her face and there’s such deep tenderness in Kate’s eyes that Osgood sags, clinging to Kate’s hips for support.    
  


Kate knows there’s really nothing more to say.  
  


“You,” she says slowly, drawing out the word.  "Just you.“  
  


Osgood looks at Kate with such open gratitude that it almost breaks her heart.  But when it’s replaced by something else, something naked and raw, Kate surges forwards and kisses Osgood again.  She can taste it on Osgood’s tongue, hear it in the quick, eager breaths she sucks in as they wind together.  Kate realises that she’s wanted to kiss Osgood forever and now she can, she doesn’t want to stop.  
  


Fingers scrabble at the button on her trousers and Osgood makes a tiny noise of frustration in her throat as she fumbles, fails.  Kate’s hands close around her wrists and push them away; Osgood breaks the kiss, stuttering backwards and worrying already that she’s overstepped and overwhelmed.  Just like she always does.  
  


Kate shakes her head at Osgood’s stricken face and kisses her again to quell any fears.  It’s her job, after all, and more second nature than anything else.  But she’s never wanted to offer safety as much as she does right now.  She guides Osgood backwards until she falls onto the bed, looking up at Kate with wide eyes and a heaving chest.  
  


Dropping down beside her, Kate’s body is warm, her shirt brushing softly over Osgood’s bare skin.  Her palm spreads over Osgood’s stomach and Kate swallows thickly, her fingertips pressing into pliant flesh.  She reaches up and slides Osgood’s glasses from her face, placing them with care onto the bedside table.  Osgood giggles self-consciously but her eyes are dark, shadowed with care.  
  


"I want to touch you,” Kate nuzzles into the hollow beneath Osgood’s ear, her voice a low, sensuous buzz against a thrumming pulse point.  She breathes Osgood in, the tip of her tongue hovering under the curve of Osgood’s jaw.  "I’ve wanted to for so long that I can’t think about anything else.“  
  


Osgood’s stomach lurches and she whimpers because Kate’s hand is really on her neck, really following the curve of her breast (she should have worn a different bra, something a woman like Kate might appreciate) and really drifting down her stomach.  She can’t tell whether it’s the gravel in Kate’s voice or the heat of her kisses, but as she rises up over Osgood, the only thing that’s real at all is how this feels.     
  


Kate hangs over her, full of sharpened desire and open want.  She’s beautiful, a force of nature that Osgood can’t explain and doesn’t want to.  As Kate’s fingers tear open her trousers and plunge beneath the waistband, there’s nothing in the universe that can possibly give a rationale for this.  Osgood’s hips rise from the bed as Kate’s hand moves lower, she strains against the body next to her own and bites at her lip.  It’s torture.  It’s bliss.  
  


"Me too,” Osgood chokes out as Kate’s fingers inch between her legs.  "I mean, either.  Me either - oh _god_ …“  
  


She bucks upwards as Kate touches her, wondering at all the power lying in the merest brush of a fingertip against flesh.  Kate adds another finger, begins to press hard in slow, luxurious circles and Osgood feels the sensation leap around her body like electricity, like the spark of life itself.  A low, appreciative moan comes from Kate’s mouth and she bends her head to Osgood’s ear.  
  


"You’re so wet,” she hisses, and bites back a moan as Osgood cries out and tries to move her hips in time with Kate’s fingers.  She lifts her head, sees Osgood’s eyes black with pleasure before they flutter shut and Kate leans in, her touch becoming hard and insistent.  
  


“Look at me,” she demands, her jaw tight.  Her elbow crooks a little, Osgood whines a little.  "Keep your eyes open.  Look at me.“  
  


There’s a desperation in Kate’s voice as Osgood forces her eyes open.  She’s seen Kate in so many different ways and situations but, right now, Osgood wonders if she’s ever seen her at all.  Kate looks untethered, unburdened by duty.  The woman gazing down at her is strong and fierce and vulnerable; Kate looks like she wants this as much as Osgood.  Perhaps even more.  
  


"That’s right,” Kate forces out as her hand moves quicker, harder, impatient and greedy.  Her gaze roams Osgood’s features, watches as she licks at dry lips and tries to breathe over every stroke blistering through her body.  Kate drops her head, mouth inches from Osgood’s; they’re close enough to kiss but when Osgood cranes upwards Kate pulls away and smiles.  "I’ll kiss you after,“ she whispers.  
  


Osgood stares at her, lost and wordless.  She rises towards Kate’s touch, craving the ripples of sweet-sharp sensation that sweep her up and move her with them.  Faster now, urgency pounding between them in heartbeat resonance, Osgood gulps over the stupid words she always says too soon and swallows them.  Her shoulders lift from the bed then thud back down as she reaches and reaches and almost… _almost_ …  
  


When she comes, Osgood throws an arm over her eyes as she begins to shudder.  She cries out in short little bursts, her voice rich with relief.  The world spins and she reels around with it, caught and grounded by Kate in a reality that’s too much to bear, too good to be true.  
  


"Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Osgood breathes out shakily when her mouth remembers how to form words again.  "I don’t even - that was just - _thank_ you.“  
  


Her arm slides away and she can see.  Clearly and starkly.  Kate’s arms are strong and swift and Osgood melts into them, her lips pressing softly against the base of Kate’s throat.  
  


"Thank _you_ ,” Kate murmurs.  She squeezes Osgood to her and sighs so deeply that it rumbles against Osgood’s mouth.  "My Osgood,“ she says, then huffs out a chuckle.  "Even without the bow tie.”  
  


Osgood stirs and lifts her head.  She looks deliciously sated, all her edges smoothed into soft, inviting curves.  Smiling, she brushes back some of Kate’s hair, rubbing it between her finger and thumb.  
  


“You said they were cool, remember?”  
  


“I said no such thing,” Kate responds, mock-haughty and wondering if she’s ever felt as good as she does right now.  "I just said I liked it.  Although,“ she wonders aloud, "it might be cool if you wore the bow tie and nothing else.”  
  


She starts to chuckle but is cut short by Osgood’s hands on her wrists, forcing them above her head and into the soft duvet beneath them.  Osgood throws a leg over hers and Kate stares up at her, trying to catch the breath that’s suddenly gone from her chest.  
  


“Careful what you wish for,” Osgood warns her with a wicked smile on her lips.  "You just might get it.“  
  


Kate blinks up at her, sighing into surrender and closing her eyes.  "I already did,’ she says.

 

 


	5. Down the Line (your breath on my neck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Totally gratuitous naked talking in bed. 
> 
> It's really the only thing I can write.

Kate’s sleeping, which she rarely gets to do in anything like healthy amounts.  Even if Osgood had been in the middle of a long, detailed explanation as to why she doesn’t wear bow ties anymore, and _even if_ she’d practiced it under her breath all day so she didn’t get it wrong, when Kate stopped responding Osgood didn’t complain.  It wasn’t the worst reception one of her stories had ever got.  
  


Head propped up on one hand, Osgood’s been listening to Kate for a while now.  She’s lying on her back, golden hair fanned out on the pillow (Osgood reminds herself not to touch while Kate’s asleep.  Or awake), mouth slightly open and the faintest snore accompanying each breath.

 

At first, Osgood had wanted to steal a look at Kate (many looks, actually, and hoard them away like treasures) but now she’s counting.  It helps to quiet the thoughts crowding her mind, tumbling around all at once like some mental washing machine, the contents intertwined and mixed up.  When she’s working on a project or spending time with Kate it’s not so bad because at least then she has something to focus on.  
  


For the last several minutes (it’s probably longer - Osgood knows it is) she’s been focusing on the rhythmic inhale and exhale: three beats in, three beats out.  Osgood slows her own breathing to the same count and finds it relaxes and soothes her to know she can keep pace with Kate even now.  It’s what she’s good at, after all.  
  


She listens carefully to the sound of Kate existing: the sharp sound as she breathes in, the rattle at the back of her throat, the almost-sigh as she breathes out.  It makes her lips purse; Osgood’s gaze slides down Kate’s face with the cadence of her breathing just to see them.  Every time she does, she remembers with a thrill that she’s kissed those lips, heard them whisper terrible, wonderful things.    
  


Nobody knows Kate Stewart like Osgood does.  Nobody touches her like Osgood, or draws tenderness from her like Osgood can.  It’s not arrogance telling Osgood that, either.  It’s Kate.  In the night, when she thinks Osgood’s asleep, Kate tells her all manner of things.  And maybe it’s not open, sweeping declarations of love, but maybe that’s the only way Kate can tell her.  The important thing is that Osgood knows.    
  


She does.  When Kate’s arm is around her on a precious, lazy evening, or when she puts her hand over Osgood’s as the car stops at a traffic light, Osgood knows.    
  


Kate stirs and mumbles something unintelligible.  Her tongue licks dryly at her lips but she doesn’t open her eyes.  
  


“What are you doing?” she finally asks, frowning.  
  


Osgood looks wildly around the room as though for assistance.  The room is patently unhelpful.  
  


“Um, nothing?”  
  


Kate’s eyes snap open and she lifts her head from the pillow, turning onto one side.  "Yes, but when you say _um, nothing_ it usually means something, so…?“  
  


A prickly flush rises up Osgood’s neck and she wishes she’d pretended to be asleep when Kate woke up.  She’s hardwired to tell Kate the truth, even when there’s nothing she’d rather do less.  But there seems little point in keeping anything from her when they’re naked in bed and there’s literally nothing standing between them.  
  


"Anyway, I fell asleep in the middle of you telling me about bow ties, which was very rude behaviour.”  Kate saves the day and Osgood’s blushes with a gentle kind of gallantry.  Her hand reaches out beneath the duvet and touches Osgood’s hip.  "Can you forgive me?“  
  


"Oh,” Osgood snorts and waves her hand around, trying not to think too hard about the soft pressure of Kate’s fingers on her skin.  "It was probably just the cure for insomnia that you needed.“  
  


"Not true,” Kate tells her, eyes glinting wickedly.  "In fact, I _particularly_ enjoyed your contextual explanation of the history of the bow tie.  Very illuminating.“  
  


Osgood’s about to apologise when Kate’s fingers glide into the dip of her waist and suddenly they’re very close together.  Kate looks at her with eyes that have seen all the wonders and terrors of the universe and can still be fascinated by a girl.  
  


"It’s beautiful,” Kate murmurs.  There’s a catch in her voice and she smiles.  "You’re beautiful,“ she adds.  Her fingers tighten on Osgood’s waist and she leans in, kissing her before flopping back onto the bed with a groan.  
  


"How long was I asleep?” Kate asks, pinching the bridge of her nose.  
  


“About an hour,” Osgood says.  "Fifty seven minutes, actually.  Which makes fifty seven minutes more sleep than you had last night.“  
  


She’s not disapproving, merely observational.  But Kate’s brows draw together guiltily under Osgood’s frank stare and she sighs, turning her head on the pillow.  
  


"There was an emergency,” she states.  There wasn’t, but Kate had become embroiled in a cataloging issue that made her think they’d lost a Cyberman hand and general panic ensued.  
  


“There’s always an emergency,” Osgood says equivocally.  "Our planet is constantly on the brink of a global emergency.“  
  


"Thanks for that,” Kate huffs.  "And you wonder why I don’t sleep.“  
  


"No, what I’m saying is that you can’t be there for them all.”  
  


“I’m not much use to UNIT if I’m not there.”  
  


Osgood presses her lips into a firm line and casts a glance over the dark circles beneath Kate’s eyes.  "You not much use to anyone if you’re running on no sleep.  Trust me, I know.  In 2006 I didn’t sleep for three days when I was working on my thesis.  I started having hallucinations.  I thought I saw aliens in my back garden.“  
  


Kate can’t help laughing.  "You probably did.  But I get your point,” she adds, shoving a hand behind her head and glancing at Osgood.  "As soon as I start seeing things, I’ll know it’s time to sleep.“  
  


"Good luck with that,” Osgood snorts gently, “given the nature of your job and mine.”  She smiles wryly and Kate returns it.  Then she sighs so deeply that Osgood’s chest clenches at the sound of it; the exhaustion in Kate’s eyes is visible and it’s heavy, wearing.  Kate dons it with the regularity of her suit - has done for so long that it’s part of her now.  But it sits around her eyes with careworn lines, digging in deep, dragging her down.  
  


“You should have been sleeping today,” Osgood says guiltily.  She takes up too much of Kate’s precious and almost non-existent time away from UNIT.  
  


“I wanted to spend it with you,” Kate says simply.  She rolls onto her side and gazes up at Osgood, so earnest.  It’s been a long time since someone nagged her about something as routine as getting enough sleep.  Her husband and children used to before they gave up on her and the notion that UNIT would take second place to anything or anyone.  
  


Kate’s kind of missed the nagging.  At least it shows someone else cares about her.  
  


Osgood shifts a little closer in the bed, her fingertips grazing the rise of Kate’s hip.  "We’ve spent all day having sex.  Not exactly what you’d call _restful_.“  
  


"That’s not true,” Kate protests.  "There was that 57 minutes when I fell asleep.  I found that _very_ restful, thank you.“  
  


"You’re being difficult,” Osgood hums in reprove.  "You always do that when you know you’re wrong.“  
  


"I’m not wrong!  I’m just…” Kate pretends to think and shoots Osgood a superior smile.  "I’m just _not right_.  There’s a difference.“  
  


The look she’s met with is, Kate knows, one of Osgood’s best when she wants to show her dissatisfaction.  She tries to appear suitably chastened instead of kissing the expression away (it’s an excellent distraction technique) and puts her hand over Osgood’s, pressing it against her skin.  
  


"Sometimes it feels like there isn’t enough time for sleep,” she says thoughtfully.  "Almost like time’s running out and we have to protect what’s left.“  
  


"That’s gloomy,” Osgood comments.  
  


“No - it’s not meant to be,” Kate says, her grasp on the hand beneath her own tightening.  "But this is new.  And I’m only too aware of how important time is.  I don’t want to have any regrets by frittering it away.“  
  


Osgood blinks.  "On sleep?”  
  


“On things that aren’t as important as you are,” Kate tells her.  "To me.  You understand what I’m saying, yes?“  
  


Her heart beats so furiously that Osgood feels like her entire body is vibrating with each frantic thud.  She nods slowly, even though her understanding thrives on what Kate chooses to give her, to share with her.  Osgood tries not to make assumptions about people - about Kate and her feelings - but the evidence she’s looking for is right in front of her, shining in Kate’s eyes.  
  


It was probably there all along.  
  


Osgood nods.  If seeing is believing - sometimes it isn’t and she’s learned to question everything - then she has no choice but to accept it, let it push her forwards into a leap of faith with no clear outcome or consequences.  But then, Osgood’s always had complete faith in UNIT.  And in Kate.    
  


Especially in Kate.  
  


"You know, I made a discovery about myself lately,” Kate comments, breaking the silence.  
  


“If you’re going to mention the Kinsey Scale then you should know it’s not really an objective classification system,” Osgood says, her chin rubbing on Kate’s arm as she looks up.  "And, really, if you’re going to even try and measure something as nebulous as human sexuality, then you’d need a two-dimensional scale to even begin to cover - “  
  


"Stop, please,” Kate says bluntly, blinking rapidly and trying not to laugh.  "That’s not what I was going to say at all.  Not even close.  I gave up _that_ kind of introspection back in the 90’s when dad showed me how hugely scary the universe is.  Worrying about who I liked or what I was seemed rather trivial in comparison.“  
  


"Oh.”  Osgood buries her face against Kate’s shoulder, even if she’s had the exact same thoughts herself.  
  


“It’s just - about the not sleeping thing,” Kate continues, her voice soft.  "Apparently when I’m on my own I find it difficult to drift off.  Impossible, actually.“  
  


Osgood rises up onto one elbow and gazes down at Kate.  "You mean - ”  
  


“Yes,” Kate says solemnly.  
  


“Without me.”  
  


“Yes, Osgood.  Without you I find it hard to sleep.”  
  


Kate’s sudden burst of nerves are somewhat placated by the joyous sheen in Osgood’s eyes.  She wonders if it’s one confession too many.  Being friends with someone or even just fucking them: those are things Kate can control and has done so assiduously for years.  But relying on someone is beyond that.  So far past it, in fact, that Kate has no way of clawing back any self-respect if this all goes wrong.    
  


Which it could do, very easily.  
  


“Why didn’t you sleep today?” Osgood’s joy is replaced by concern, wrinkling her brow.  
  


Kate laughs grimly and narrows her eyes before craning her neck and kissing Osgood gently.  "You’re naked in my bed.  Do you really expect me to sleep?“  
  


"Yes,” Osgood says then bites her lip immediately and shrinks a little.  "Um, no?  I mean, I’m a distraction so that’s…probably not a good thing.  I could put some clothes on.“  
  


She looks so troubled that Kate reaches for her and pulls her in close.  Her laugh rumbles against Osgood’s ear.  "Bridge is a distraction.  Gardening is a distraction.  You are a necessity.”  
  


Osgood slides an arm across Kate’s waist and holds her tightly.  She’s always wondered what it would be like to feel needed - not in the ways that her job requires or the bigger, more desperate ways in which the world needs people like her.  But in this intimate, loving way that makes her heart swell and her throat constrict as she understands - proof positive, Osgood thinks jubilantly - who they are to one another.  What they are.  
  


“Anyway,” Kate’s saying, her head thudding softly back onto the pillow, “now I’m so tired I can’t sleep properly.  57 minutes might be it.”  
  


“I’m not prepared to accept that,” Osgood says sternly, and Kate can’t help but look a little alarmed as Osgood rises up and looks down at her.  "And I’m happy to help, of course.“  
  


"Help?” Kate’s eyebrows rise.  "Not with more stories about bow ties - fascinating as they are, of course,“ she adds quickly.  
  


"No, no stories.  But it will help you sleep.”  There’s a wickedly thrilling lilt to Osgood’s voice and she bends her head to the curve of Kate’s breast.  Her hand drags over Kate’s flat stomach, down the lean lines of her thighs and back up again.  By the time Osgood lifts her head, intent is gleaming in the dark pools of her eyes; her fingers drifting between Kate’s legs.  
  


“I’m suddenly not feeling very sleepy,” Kate gasps, hips canting towards Osgood’s touch.  
  


Osgood smiles enigmatically and disappears beneath the duvet, slithering down Kate’s body, her mouth dragging heat and and open-mouthed kisses over taut, firm lines that Osgood now knows by heart.  Kate groans somewhere above her head; it spurs Osgood on.  She pushes Kate’s knees apart and crouches between them, throwing the duvet off.  
  


She hears Kate draw in a breath, hold it, then let it out in a grating sigh.  Her hips undulate as Osgood bends to them, mouth hovering over the slope of Kate’s belly and its alluring softness.  Awed, Osgood lifts her fingers and traces the faint, silvery lines on Kate’s skin and hears a disconcerted sound as Kate shifts beneath her.  
  


“You’re beautiful,” Osgood says, and means it.    
  


Kate struggles up onto her elbows and stares down the length of her body to where Osgood is between her legs.  Desire ripples through her; it quickens her breathing and makes everything sharp, heightened.  Other compliments from other people fly through her head; but she never really felt the word, what it means and what it tells her until now.  Until Osgood.  
  


“So are you,” Kate croaks out, lust giving way to emotion as she knew it would.  Had hoped it wouldn’t.  
  


Osgood smiles at her, dips her head and draws a long, protracted moan from Kate as her tongue glides through silky wetness.  She hums appreciatively, fingertips pressing against the heat of Kate’s inner thigh.  The tip of her tongue is a razor, cutting circles of pin-prick pleasure around Kate’s clitoris until Osgood closes her lips around it, sucking hard.  Kate bucks under her mouth, crying out.  Her hand slithers down her own body until it plunges into Osgood’s hair, nails scraping over her scalp.    
  


One arm curling around Kate’s thigh, Osgood hooks a knee over her shoulder; Kate is urging her on in a deep, guttural tone and the sound of it runs electric through her veins.  She slides two fingers inside Kate without preamble, holding her tightly as Kate cries out again and thrusts towards her.  It’s an odd feeling of power that sweeps through Osgood - so keenly felt and wholly encompassing.  Kate is alive under her mouth, her touch and it makes her hasty and eager, even a little rough.  
  


She crooks her fingers, her tongue hard and demanding.  Kate is calling out in fragmented words, her voice breaking over the rhythm of Osgood’s fingers and how her hips seek to match it.  She pulls on Osgood’s hair, eyes squeezing shut and head pounding back onto the pillow.    
  


Osgood holds her when she comes, shuddering and trembling, the universe contained in a single moment.  She holds Kate all the way down, down until her breathing is manageable and she’s staring up at the ceiling.  Then Osgood crawls up the bed beside her, draping the duvet over them both as Kate lies in her arms.  
  


They kiss, and Kate can taste herself on Osgood’s lips.  She closes her eyes and shivers in the aftermath, head falling back as she waits for it to subside.  Kate doesn’t believe in peaceful surrender but she’d quite happily give herself over to this - to _her_ \- time and again.  A thankful sigh falls from her mouth and Osgood chuckles.  
  


“I told you I’d had experiences,” she murmurs against Kate’s hair.  
  


“You didn’t tell me they were like that,” Kate says against Osgood’s neck.  
  


“They weren’t.  You’re different.  From everyone else - _anyone_ else.” Osgood answers in short bursts of sound, then catches her breath as though she’s said something wrong.   
  


Kate closes her eyes.  "Good.“  
  


Osgood smiles so widely that she feels her cheeks begin to ache a little.  It’s nice to have a reason, she thinks, to explain how she’s been feeling.  A conclusion to formulate from all the times she thinks about Kate and experiences a thrill of what she thought was joy.  She knows what it is now.  
  


"Feeling sleepy yet?” Osgood asks.  Kate grunts against her shoulder and moves in closer, her arm snaking over Osgood’s stomach.  Kate Stewart’s a snuggler, Osgood thinks, amused.  It kind of makes sense, after all.    
  


She lies back in the bed, closing her eyes, and listens to the sound of Kate breathing.  Three beats in, three beats out.  And Osgood begins to count.

 

 


End file.
